


Game of Life

by HorologiumParadox



Category: Durarara!!
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-01
Updated: 2015-05-01
Packaged: 2018-03-26 15:42:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3856120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HorologiumParadox/pseuds/HorologiumParadox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The king is supposed to be the last piece to leave the board. Especially in Orihara Izaya's game. No one is allowed to quit the match against his will.</p><p>That doesn't seem to be a certain ex-bartender's opinion, who disappears from Ikebukuro to exile himself in a countryside town.</p><p>Drrr kink meme fill, part 12, page 9.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Missing Piece

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, so, hello! This is my first official long fanfiction. I've tried writing before, but was lacking so much feedback that ended up losing motivation.  
> Anyhow, this is my first official Shizaya fanfiction! I love this pairing so much and had wanted to write about them for quite a while. So I hope you guys like it!  
> Leave comments telling about what you think about the plot, 'in-characterness', writing style and so on. I'm starting in the literature world and open to critiques and advices!  
> Thanks a lot, enjoy reading~

Some things are so taken for granted that you barely realize how much they matter before they are gone.

Take the sun, for example. You complain about him making you squint your eyes all day until evening, but never consider they are part of keeping you alive and not making the Earth a wandering ice cube.

Likewise, when an existence as powerful as Heiwajima Shizuo apparently disappeared into thin air out of the blue, Ikebukuro couldn't help but notice how slightly more peaceful its life turned. No wrecked public property, no slaughtered gangs, no frightened crowds and no exciting rumours about the blonde in the bartender suit roaming about Ikebukuro smoking like a walking chimney. Nor would they hear the typical roar of the equally [in]famous informant of Shinjuku's name amidst a symphony of crashing trash bins and vending machines.

Said informant, actually, had both cursed and rejoiced in the first few months after the blonde's disappearance. Cursed for being his annoyingly unpredictable self and rejoicing for being clear of the inconstant piece of his game.

That was in the first few months.

By the seventh month, the raven started to grow restless, to the point of going to Ikebukuro and searching every inch for a trace of the city's fortissimo. Sadly, even his most reliable sources had heard nothing of him.

How dared he! Izaya bit his thumb, scowling at Shinjuku's skyline through his large window, partly reflecting his annoyed expression. Behind him, Namie arched an eyebrow. "Trouble in crazy land, Orihara-san?"

The raven swiftly molded his expression into a taunting smirk. "Just great. What about in obsessive-love land?" That earned him a drop of a smirk and a scowl before the secretary announced she was done for the day. Waving her off idly, Izaya turned to the colorful neon lights mildly blurred outside his window as the door closed with a slam. He couldn't help the chuckle that escaped his lips.

Thin, dark eyebrows knit together. Back to his previous problem. Even if Shizuo was finally out of his plans, he still disrupted them by acting out of the range of acceptance - like always. The game Izaya played so meticulously wasn't one to be quit at any given time, and he was sure to teach the protozoic blonde about that. A grin that could easily make a grown man shiver crept up the informer's face.

"Oh yes, Shizu-chan. Don't think you can escape from me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that was the first, nothing much happened .-.  
> I'll be using my system of constant POV changing, to understand the story from both sides, I hope you don't mind. ^^;;  
> Please give me your feedback so I can sharpen the character interpretation and plot '3'


	2. Brand New World

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here's another chapter of the currently 5-chapter long fill, I'll be updating until the current chapter and post the sixth as soon as I'm done with it.  
> Thanks for reading, again!

"Thanks for coming. Come again!"

Probably due to its rarity throughout his entire life, the smile still didn't quite match the ex-bartender's face, what caused the customers to shiver and push their children out of the cake shop. What the blonde was oblivious to, naturally. The hybrid blonde, in fact, since his roots were darkening back to their original color and the man was aiming for a normal life - and actually had a chance to achieve it.

With a sigh, Shizuo took upon his usual frown, albeit reduced to a mild furrow of eyebrows and a neutral relaxation of his lips.

"Shizuo-kun, you're free to go on your break anytime now." His boss' voice slightly startled him, making him jolt. Had it been two years ago, he'd lunged for her throat immediately on reflex, but perhaps the countryside life had made him rusty (or more at ease).

Two years, huh? That long already...

"Shizuo-kun?"

Emerald orbs flashed before his caramel ones and he jumped once again. "Ah, yes, sorry. I'll be taking my break now, excuse me!" Bowing partially at the woman, the now domesticated beast of Ikebukuro - title unbeknownst to the citizens of the small town - strolled to the back to hang his uniform hat and apron before walking out the chimy door.

The scenery outside his current workplace was definitely way different from his previous one. Instead of being met with indifferent concrete and melancholically monochromatic skyscrapers, the street fanned out to modest houses, sympathetic shops, kids chasing each other around, bicycles rattling against the uneven ground, and other factors that made Shizuo feel comfortable and at peace, like his name had originally foreseen.

A few greetings were delivered as the blonde-brunette hybrid strolled down the street. When he'd first arrived, all the residents were skeptical, but as soon as a young boy decided it was a good idea to introduce himself and his whole collection of toy cars to the ex-bartender and succeeded, the townsfolk deemed him a good person.

Of course Shizuo often reminisced about his previous life, the friends he left behind, the flea--

Thinking about Izaya still made an eyebrow twitch. He was truly like a pest; Shizuo would never be able to completely erase him from his world. Maybe it'd be more appropriate to say Izaya is like herpes. Once it gets into your life, it never really leaves.

Another thing that had changed in the two years since Kasuka showed up at his door - after a fight with some gangs that were better armed than himself - offering a chance to start over somewhere else was the former bodyguard's addiction. Since the beggining of the second year, he hadn't had as much as a drag from a cancer stick, and that made him as proud as it made him glad. It was a clear sign he'd managed to settle down into a peaceful life.

Yes, and nothing could rid him of his bliss. Nothing at a--

"And just when I was wondering what Shizu-chan was up to. I'm disappointed. Or rather, I'm shocked."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked it, don't forget to leave a comment!  
> 


	3. On A Monster's Track

Laughable.

The helplessness of the (self-proclaimed) most famous information broker in Japan's proud skills could only be described as such when a whole year had elapsed and the raven had no clue on Shizuo's trail. The last thing on his mind was to seem desperate, but he had to acknowledge the hypothesis when he started contemplating asking the blonde's acquaintances.

As if they'd even listen to him in the first place.

Izaya's annoyance grew wilder by each day. Not only messing with his game, now the amoeba had to make him second guess himself. Just wonderful. How he missed the days when Shizuo had the least bit of predictability of at least staying in the city he unconsciously claimed. 'Like a wild animal marking its territory,' the informer mused to himself while idly rocking his swivel chair from side to side and staring out his panoramic window into the bustling city lights of Shinjuku.

Shizuo was even making him distracted, it seemed, even absent. "The coffee you asked," a female voice snapped Izaya out of his thoughts, skillfully holding back a jolt. Without turning his head an inch, he jabbed, "Black?" "Yes." "No sugar?" "No." "No milk?" "No." "Hot?" "Yes." "Well at least that much is expected of a secretary, Namie-chan!" "Bite me."

With a brief laughter, the raven turned, taking the cup of hot beverage into his hands and admiring the sheer darkness of the fluid before taking a sip and sighing contently.

"Not that I mind, but you're acting weird lately." The dark-haired woman circled her own desk and sat down on her chair, crossing her finely sculpted legs.

Putting the cup down and turning the monitor back on, Izaya snickered, "Is that an attempt to start a conversation, Namie-chan?" Her eye roll was almost palpable over the air when she sighed in exasperation.

"You wish. I just don't want you going nuts and forgetting about my pay," Namie answered in a monotone, shuffling through some colorful files on her desk.

"That's harsh!" Mock hurt overly exaggerated, the informer elicited another eye roll and smirked to himself before exhaling. "You don't have to worry, it'd take a lot to make me lose my excellent mind."

'Why do I put up with this again?' was a question constantly on the secretary's mind, and it didn't fail this time either. "Whatever. Forget I asked." Izaya was almost glad she'd dropped it when the voice returned and made him frown at his computer screen, "Is it Heiwajima Shizuo again?"

"Quite the opposite, in fact." Through the corner of his eye, he saw Namie shoot him a sidelong glance with an arched eyebrow. "He hasn't been around much, so I have a free pass around Ikebukuro. It's convenient~"

"So you miss picking a fight with him. How cute." The raven didn't have to look to see his secretary smirking with a leer.

"It's called feeding a monster, Namie-chan," he snapped back with a sarcastic smirk, basically meaning for her to 'pipe down that cockiness of yours or I'll dock your pay'.

The dark-haired woman seemed to get the message, since her smirk dropped and she shook her head, turning her attention back to the papers. "I'd heard he'd moved out of Ikebukuro, but never really considered it true."

"Could it be he's finally decided to go back to the wild?", the man mused, idly twisting his chair in half circles while narrowing dark auburn orbs into slits at the roaring city outside his window. 'Though this is already much like a jungle...'

With a sigh, the secretary stapled a stack of papers. "More like he's isolated himself. Heard somewhere the guy was living a boring life in a small town somewhere in Okinawa or something."

The raven had to control himself not to promptly snap his head to the woman. "Oh? I didn't know you had friends in Okinawa, Namie-chan. Were you a country bumpkin then?" Despite the mocking tone, Izaya subtly urged her on with the teasing.

"He used to be a client of Yagiri Farmaceutics and still keeps favor exchanges. Don't get any wrong ideas, Orihara-san." The cold tone announced the end of the subject.

But that was all Izaya needed.

***

Out of all the places in Japan, the protozoic beast had to choose the ends of Earth. Izaya was starting to suspect a dinosaur would pop out of a hole filled with lava any time.

Specially since Nanjo was mainly a touristic city, not in the smallest inch compared to the chaos of Tokyo. The information broker missed it already.

But that day - and before that, the whole week, but if you'd ask he'd say he was busy with work - Izaya had decided to cross the whole country to rescu-- drag back the blonde to his game. So while grimacing at the window displaying his own reflection on the rattling, old-fashion decorated train, the man swore to himself he'd bring the beast of Ikebukuro back to its original lair even if chasing the raven himself. It wasn't a pleasant thought, but even more repulsive was the void left among the chaos in Tokyo by the disappearance of the strongest man of Japan (assumedly).

Izaya admits to himself he'd underestimated the city when the forth hour since stepping into Nanjo had elapsed without any signs of the wandering sign post that the stupid amoeba was.

It was with the corner of his eye that the raven's attention was attracted to a tall figure pacing calmly through the street. A twisted feeling of control and possession enveloped him, and maybe his voice transpired it like invisible, everlasting threads attached to his puppet - his pawn - when the taller froze as soon as the informant's voice disrupted the light atmosphere of the peaceful street.

"And just when I was wondering what Shizu-chan was up to. I'm disappointed. Or rather, I'm shocked."

Priceless, truly. The utter loss of actions and words the once impulsive brute usually had absolutely no trouble with turned him into a living statue a few feet ahead of the dark-haired male.

"What's wrong? Missed me that much, Shizu-chan?", the raven tried again, taking a step closer while simultaneously twiddling with his switchknife inside a pocket with a hand and gesturing dramatically with the other.

"...Izaya." When the reply finally came, although originally disappointing in its simplicity, Izaya was finally able to see the blonde's face, currently turning his head in a mix of disbelief and restraint.

"So you DO remember me. What happened to your...passionate hate, Shizu-chan?" A smirk from the information broker always made a vein pop on the blonde's forehead, at the very least, but the reaction was frustrating when the ex-bartender barely twitched.

"What the hell do you want?" Although Shizuo's voice was low, Izaya had a hunch it wasn't intended to sound threatening; in fact, it seemed almost as if the beast was trying to keep it down so a sleeping baby wouldn't wake up - what disgusted the raven to no end.

The smirk twitched in annoyance. Again, the protozoan was diverting from the expected. Even though Izaya was the origin of all chaos in Ikebukuro, defaults and customs were established for a reason. Couldn't Shizuo understand that already and play along with his plans? Of course not. The now hybrid blonde - even that came as a slight surprise to Izaya - ignored all common sense and logic, hurling them through the air like vending machines and trash cans.

One of his usual traces of his arrogance gagged through Izaya's teeth in a snicker. "Is that any way to treat a visit from so far away~?"

Izaya could hear the shaky long breath the ex-bodyguard took in to control himself - in which was faring surprisingly well - before he snarled back. "Nobody asked you to come. Get the fuck out of here before I punch you across the ocean back to Shinjuku, pest."

"You should know full well by now I'm not the submissive kind," the tension rose with each graceful step the informant took towards the blonde-brunette hybrid, "Shi-zu-chan."

They were close enough to each other for the dark-haired man to widen his smirk at the rattling shakiness of the ex-bartender's muscles, holding back with what could only be sheer willpower - Izaya knew Shizuo enough to know his body couldn't control itself by its own.

"Get. Out. Right. Now." Each word was spat through gritted teeth.

"Or what, Shizu-chan? You'll chase me around like usual? Oh, sorry, should I say like 'good old times'?" By then, Izaya had already caught up on the motive he was still breathing evenly and in a two meter radius from the living death machine -- the beast had foolishly believed he could bury his past and start over. 'No one abandons the game without my permission, Shizu-chan.'

Looking down, blood started to dribble between tightly clenched fists and drip onto the ground beneath Shizuo's hands. "You're the one chasing me right now, louse."

At last, those wonderfully conflicted foxy yellow hues shot up to sustain an intense glare with rusty scarlet slits responding equally in emotion. It was all there, stored away from each other enough to trigger a spark of nostalgia, but as trivial as the ads on a bus stop to them. All the hatred, the frustration, the resentment, the frustration; the epitome of a spiteful existence divided in two, completing each other in a regrettably sinful synergy.

The unexplainable and incomprehensible melted into an amalgam of amber and auburn in wordless loathing as monochromatic seconds ticked by, and the world seemed to turn the way it was supposed to once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one was longer, as I expect each chapter to be from now on.  
> Leave your thoughts in the comments! x3


	4. About Scars and Changes

They say you can't escape from your past.

Every happening, feeling, expression is engraved into your mind, twisting scars into your soul; and you can never forget.

But you learn to live with it.

Heiwajima Shizuo's biggest mistake was to neglect that fact and believe he could bury his self past completely, away from the cage of Ikebukuro.

However, you can't erase scars.

The foxy slash across his chest was the very proof he couldn't erase Izaya.

 

It was a blur; from the moment the former bodyguard redirected his incoming wrath blackout to his legs to the loud noise of his apartment door slamming shut. Gradually, the colors seemed to paint his vision once again and the man snapped back to himself, anxiety making his fingers twitch at considering the possibility of being followed. As the minutes ticked by and the echo of the taunting tone faded from his mind, the blonde-brunette deemed it safe to ease the knot in his shoulder muscles for a while.

"Shit, shit, shit, shit, SHIT!" The last cuss was matched with a fist to the smooth brick wall, rendering him bruised knuckles and an extra bill at the end of the month. Though it was far from enough to release all the anger, Shizuo didn't want to further ruin the apartment that had been intact ever since he moved in because of a flea - though he often did it to his apartment in Ikebukuro.

Following that train of thought, the ex-bartender froze. The apartment he'd wrecked monthly in fits of anger, the public property rid of its original state and location, the many cups churned at Shinra's place and the countless cigarettes crushed under the sole of a brute's foot were miles away from him, in the cursed city of Ikebukuro; a place where aberrations gather and clash with one another until there's only chaos left.

A place for the monster he is--was.

Shizuo shook his head, remembering the past year when he'd finally settled in the mediocre and peaceful life he'd always yearned for. No adrenaline or nicotine on his veins to control his mood, just the wind and idle chatter of common townsfolk buzzing along the fairly calm streets.

Would he really let Izaya bring it all to ruins?

The answer was clear in the determined grin pulling back the corners of the former 'monster of Ikebukuro''s lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this ended up being short *dies* ;A;  
> Next is longer, I swear!  
> Leave your sugar-sweet comments below, dears~


	5. Brewing Storm

Seeing the possibly strongest man of Japan run away from his mortal enemy was not within Izaya's concept of 'expected'.

Then again, when did Shizuo ever do something completely expected?

'Still annoyingly unpredictable, huh?', the raven mused as he stared in visible - although faint - shock at the skidding figure now turning a corner into another street. Well, he'd taken vacation from work anyway, there'd be no need to rush.

Left alone in the middle of an unnervingly quiet street in plain afternoon, the informant shrugged in resignation to explore the vicinity. In a way, Izaya was surprised to find the brute in such a pacific town. Such a place did not suit him at all; Ikebukuro was much more fit to a monster with ridiculously insane strength and a temper that burned out faster than a strand of hair. On the other hand, it somehow matched the principles Shizuo stubbornly claimed to follow - such as hating violence and wanting a peaceful life.

However, Izaya knew. A monster is deprived of the right to be happy, wrecking everything he stumbles across-- or so the raven stated. The main reason for which Shinjuku's famous informant bothered to break his exciting routine to travel to the pits of Japan (so it seemed) was far from something as moral as that. It was rotten, twisted, a deadly sin Izaya would skillfully counter when accused to.

Dangerous overthinking put aside, the dark-haired man proceeded to reluctantly get familiar with the small town. No better way to do that other than to walk around, he figured. His target would be on a high guard for the rest of the day anyway.

The information broker spent the rest of the afternoon putting together his mental information database about the town. First thing he'd noted was that, amongst the common townsfolk, he stood out like a sore thumb. Well, a sore thumb wouldn't be something very precise to compare him to, but the matter was that his clothes made him look too out of place there. Tokyo was a place with all sorts of people, but that petty city was almost in another planet if compared to the massive blot of concrete and motion that was Ikebukuro. If he was aiming to get that over with as soon as possible, might as well mingle with the people around. Being recognized, even at the smallest possibility, would be troublesome and possibly interfere with his plans.

Except he didn't have plans.

The only thing firmly established in the informer's mind was his objective: to bring his pawn back to the game. No prior planning would even apply to the reaction he'd gotten from the ex-bartender anyway. That sort of planning would only be done later that evening, sipping on a cup of coffee in front of his laptop on a standard-sized single bed, having opted for a plain room in one of the town's few inns. 'Opted' wouldn't exactly be appropriate, seeing as the rooms didn't offer much better advantages, but since it was temporary, it mattered little.

After the disturbingly boring day apart from the surprisingly 'interesting' re-encounter with the protozoan, the raven had checked into his room at an old inn with two paper bags with his food for the night and clothes for the next day. Then it was time for some planning.

His only bag had already been sent to his room on request before Izaya had gone searching for the monster; its contents being roughly his laptop and charger, a couple of sets of clothing, one of his cellphones, an external HD, basic hygiene utensils and some spares knives.

So, back to the scene previously described, the informant typed away the information gathered about the city in a new document. As soon as he was done, the hard part followed - coming up with a plan to predict the unpredictable.

Shizuo had, somehow, moved away from Ikebukuro to live in the countryside. 'Why', he wasn't sure yet. It would be ridiculous to believe the 'I hate violence' theory, but that was all he had at the moment - though it didn't make him satisfied in the least. Next, the amoeba had run away upon being teased like usual by the informant. That implied Shizuo was attempting to hold back in some way he never managed to before, and the reason was another thing to investigate. The idea of the fortissimo of Ikebukuro being afraid of the devilish information broker was absurd precisely because of who they were, to outsiders and to each other.

For the next step, then, Izaya settled for finding the motive he wasn't limping yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise the next chapters will have more actions Dx  
> Leave comments~


	6. Disrupted Peace

Surprises are not the kind of event gladly welcomed and embraced by everyone. The thought of not being able to predict and be prepared for a certain circumstance can surely shake someone out of their rails.

Often, surprises are accompanied by expectations. While surprise breaks a routine, expectation is a way to attempt to formulate a new one based on the crack in the old routine.

On the other hand, expectations are all the more unnerving.

When you expect something to happen; when you anticipate something, it seems to become doubly painful to wait for it. Worst part is, all you can do is wait for it. Be prepared or not, if you know it’s bound to happen, you can only agonize your way towards it.

Especially when dealing with a persistent insect.

Fortunately, Heiwajima Shizuo had mustered the strength to walk out of his apartment without fear, having muted out the anxiety of anticipation by imposing the firm resolve of testing his own progress. If all it took for him to revert back to his former self was the appearance of a flea, he couldn’t exactly claim he’d changed. Besides, he wouldn’t let the bastard have his way. So, before his brain could think thoroughly about the idea - that was never a good thing -, the blonde-brunette hybrid was out in the now familiar streets of the small town, greeting people with a subtle upturn of his lips on his way to work.

He’d deal with the nuisance once he got to it. That was how he’d always lived, and would always live.

Though that thought had once been applied to his previous concept of his own personality.

Shaking his head to cast the thought away, Shizuo reached the bakery. Upon deeper investigation, he realized his boss was in the back. “Chihiko-san, I’m here,” he announced, tying the knot of his apron.

It was only natural the work place that would most attract the ex-bodyguard would be a place related to his likes. Not that there was much of a variety of options in the humble town, but still the best one among them. The first time he’d walked around town with Kasuka in a sort of field reconnaissance they’d walked past the shop/bakery and the then blonde had started to drool in a desire-for-sugar-induced daze. His brother then promptly walked into the establishment and asked if they were in need of workers. Initially, the attendant was confused and unsure, but while she called for the cook, a light female brunette stopped beside Shizuo and commented, with a smile, “Aren’t they absolutely magnetizing? You can’t take your eyes off of them!”

Turning to the emerald-eyed young woman, the blonde had blinked and responded to the expression with a light smile of his own, “They all look delicious.”

That expression of childish bliss was all it took for the female – who, little had he known, was the owner of the place - to flash a grin, enter the shop and agree to hire him. And on that moment, Shizuo felt blessed for the days that would follow.

As the former bartender managed his messy hair inside the toque, the female owner’s head popped up from the back door. “Ah, hello, Shizuo-kun! Today we’re finally getting the tables to set outside, so you’ll be waiting on people today. Just the apron’s fine,” the young woman’s smile had soothed him from the moment they met. The male replied with a shy smile of his own, removing the accessory, starting to explain his previous renegation the day before.

The shop was composed by a richly equipped kitchen, a small locker room, a limited display room for the counter and a wider area outside, on the boardwalk. Usually, the former bodyguard worked inside the kitchen, but recently had been assigned more frequently to the outside works for reasons he was far too dense to pick up on. Either way, he never complained, just grateful he could work stress-free over the days while having the bonus of receiving part of the leftovers occasionally. Though he’d put on a little weight lately, all with no longer having to chase a fl—

‘God, stop thinking about the louse. You want to ignore him, forget him, not get pissed at someone who isn’t even around anymore.’ Sadly, even that argument was no longer valid, and was proved to be so as he easily placed the sets of tables and chairs outside the shop.

“Shizu-chan in an apron! Next thing I know he’ll be in a maid’s uniform!”

It took the now waiter a few long, deep sighs to keep his blood from rocketing to his head and blinding his senses. “What the hell are you still doing here, flea?” he hissed between already gritted teeth, not turning around from his chores to meet the annoying informant.

Shizuo could feel the trademark smirk raising the hair of his neck and urging the adrenaline onto his blood stream. “I’ve got business in this town, but am currently free.”

“Yeah, right. Here and everywhere I’m also at, it seems. Get lost,” the half-blonde scoffed, starting to wipe the tables without meeting the mischievous stare yet.

“Coincidences do happen, Shizu-chan.” Izaya chuckled at his own words, disagreeing with them himself.

The other seemed to pick up on the contradiction. “There’s no such thing as coincidence when it comes to you, bastard.”

The informant acknowledged the confirmation with a brief laugh that prickled straight into Shizuo’s nerves, eliciting a crack from the surface he was cleaning. Self cursing was mumbled as the male examined the damage closely, vaguely realizing the settling presence of the raven on a nearby chair. When his attention finally averted back to the other, though, the scowl scrunching his features in a mess of hatred only worsened, if physically possible.

“Where the hell do you think you’re sitting? Go pester someone else.” Although tempted to wrench the chair off the floor to throw the insect on the floor, Shizuo feared he might not resist the urge to finish the job afterwards.

Almost as if having witnessed the mental image inside the taller’s head, the intruder shrugged, voice a taunting purr as always. “I know no one else in this town, Shizu-chan.” Mock realization dramatized on his face, Izaya added, “That is, apart from my client, of course.”

“Then go make some friends or whatever. Not that anyone would stand an annoying little shit like you.”

That probably wasn’t the smartest thing to say. “Hmm, good idea! While I’m at it, I could tell them the wonderful legend of a Neanderthal who could lift a van with his bare hands, don’t you think they’d like to hear it?” One of the reasons he hated the flea was almost tangible in his voice: the arrogance that leaked through his smirk and oozed out through his voice.

Despite hating violence, the former fortissimo of Ikebukuro had always ended up using it regardless of his own will due to his lack of self control, as a solution to get rid of hindrances.

However, he had been given a chance to start over two years prior to that tempting opportunity to send his archenemy flying. And that new beginning included new solutions, and new solutions excluded violence.

Besides wanting at all costs to keep Izaya away from playing his sick game with them, the former bodyguard didn’t want to mess up the bonds he’d firmed with the townsfolk, even if it meant they never got to meet his rea—former self. Shizuo had always been reserved, so that kind of calm ambient suited him, putting aside the hair-thin fuse of Ikebukuro’s strongest.

Those are the reasons why, added to the one the hybrid brunette had held on tightly to since the previous night, Shizuo turned fully and stood before Izaya, towering above him without room for wondering why wasn’t the flea a hundred meters away from him already, cackling like a sick hyena. What could certainly make any grown man run away, though, was the menacing smile the waiter slowly contorted his face into.

“How may I help you then, Izaya-kun? Should I keep you entertained until your boredom shall be cast away?” Sarcasm had never been the former blonde’s strongest point, but now it was a tool he’d have to perfect to compensate for his physical limitation.

The information broker kept his face expressionless, tending to a deadpan, before smiling as brightly and as artificially as Shinjuku’s city lights. “What a kind offer, Shizu-chan! I’ll gladly accept it! While you’re at it, care to tell me how you ended up around here? Did you perhaps get lost?”

Perhaps it hadn’t been that good an idea to fight the informant in his own game.

However, Shizuo barely had time to consider the blunder over the sound of his nostalgic mantra replaying incessantly in an increasingly high volume in his head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now I've caught up with the kink meme updates. All that's left to move on now is a slap to my laziness and a bar of chocolate.  
> Maybe the bar of chocolate first.  
> Anyway, stay tuned for the next chapter and if you're enjoying or hating or want to shove my face into an incinerator, leave a comment! Bye bye bi~


End file.
